


Love Bites and Bruises

by i_got_these_words



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 01:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30064746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_got_these_words/pseuds/i_got_these_words
Summary: “You don’t cross a He by fucking with what’s his. Ever.”
Relationships: He Tian & Mo Guanshan (19 Days), He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days), Jian Yi/Zhan Zhengxi (19 Days)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 305





	Love Bites and Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> If adding underwhelming one-shots to your repertoire of fanfiction reading list is your thing, you're in the right place. I wrote this silly drabble hungover and sleep-deprived. There is no rhyme or reason here.
> 
> **Please heed the following content warnings:** Excessive drinking; dubious consent; victim self-blaming; jealousy.

The rhythm in his head had but one name. Tequila.

Guan Shan winced as a shooting pain lanced through him, striking dead centre in the space between his eyes like a rusty nail trying to screw its way through his skull. His heavy and only-somewhat-cooperative tongue rolled around a tart curse that would have had his mom smacking him upside the head and scolding him six ways to Sunday.

_Fuck a cheese grater._ Where was he?

Prying his eyes open, Guan Shan squinted into the dimly lit room, thankful that someone had had the foresight to draw the vertical blinds closed. The scintillating shimmer of a spring dawn spilt through the narrow gaps, casting the room and its slumbering occupants in hues of cerise and new beginnings.

Guan Shan didn’t recognise them, and he sure as fuck didn’t believe in new beginnings. Or second chances. He was forced to clench his teeth against a wave of nausea when he tried to sit up, his body stiff and protesting. He took a few steadying breaths through his nose as the rusty nail asserted itself once again, burrowing deeper and laying claim to his alcohol-addled brain.

The room was littered with the usual post-party detritus, but in place of ransacked snack bowls, disposable red cups and crushed beer cans, there were half-empty food platters, fully empty champagne bottles and a slew of personalised confetti.

It came him to then—Jian Yi and Zheng Xi’s engagement party.

He instantly regretted coming. Then, just as quickly, felt bad for even thinking it; Jian Yi was the closest thing Guan Shan had to a friend, even if Guan Shan would never admit it. But then he remembered how, in the face of his hesitation, Jian Yi had assured Guan Shan that _he_ wouldn’t be attending. After all, _he_ was halfway across the globe and had already sent his apologies and felicitations in the form of an outrageously luxurious RV disguised as an engagement gift.

_Shit._

Guan Shan needed to get out of there.

He took his time levering himself to his feet, swaying a little as the room spun. Gingerly, he lumbered past the handful of dozing guests, most of them more scantily dressed than they had been at the beginning of the party, limbs twisted around a partner—or _partners_ —a piece of upholstered furniture, or a bottle of top-shelf liquor.

The air was thick with the scents of warm, canoodling bodies, an eye-watering floral fragrance someone had drenched themselves in the night before and the lingering traces of eau de fuck mist _._ Wrinkling his nose, Guan Shan scowled at the thought of partygoers going at it right there in the living room whilst he was passed out drunk on the couch. What happened to having some goddamn decorum?

Meandering out into the hallway in search of his chukka boots, Guan Shan rubbed his temples and wondered if it was too early in the day for the Sunday trains to be running. He considered getting an Uber back to his place, but he was trying to save up—for a wedding gift, a fucking suit because the one he owned was only fit to be worn at funerals, smart shoes that hadn’t been bought at a thrift store, and a round or two of over-priced drinks at the joint bachelor bash Jian Yi was already twittering about.

_Fuckin’-A._ He’d need to budget more tightly than he already had been, but he consoled himself with the option of selling the suit and shoes second-hand post-wedding and making up for the difference by picking up a few more shifts at the restaurant.

And making do with less than three hours of sleep a night.

Putting his monetary worries to one side, Guan Shan spent the better half of a minute getting tangled in the loose end of a congratulations banner that had come half-undone from the wall. As he passed the kitchen, he caught the time on the microwave’s digital display: five fucking am. The first train wasn’t due til half six.

Mood souring, Guan Shan ran a frustrated hand through his shorn hair, a little stiff and sticky from the product he’d fingered through it last night. His stomach lurched when he noticed the wretched bottle of jalapeño-infused tequila on the breakfast bar and he wondered why he’d thought drinking himself to oblivion would be a good idea. Not only had it been one of his more foolish decisions, it hadn’t even fucking worked.

Guan Shan could remember, clear as day, how his mouth had dried up and his heart had dithered like a fucking damsel in distress when he’d spotted He Tian sauntering through Jian Yi and Zheng Xi’s verdant backyard. With his signature cocksure swagger, He Tian had garnered the attention of many a guest sprawled on rattan garden furniture. Guan Shan had envied them their insouciance as they sipped chilled champagne from sparkling glasses and got their fill of a fabulous ass furnished in dark denim. Guan Shan, on the other hand, had ensconced himself in the kitchen in an attempt to avoid crossing paths with his ex.

That, too, hadn’t fucking worked.

With an hour to kill, Guan Shan found himself in the guest bathroom, splashing his face with arctic-cold water in the hopes that it would chink away at the haze of his hangover. In anticipation of having overnight sojourners, Jian Yi or Zheng Xi—more likely the latter—had stacked a pile of sealed toothbrushes and bottles of mouthwash on the window ledge.

Guan Shan felt marginally human after he’d scrubbed his teeth and freshened up. He chanced a look in the mirrored cabinet above the sink and grimaced. His rose gold hair, which had been a deliberate mess of spikes at the beginning of the night was now nothing short of a grooming disaster. His cheeks were flushed from the cold wash, masking the dusting of freckles on his face that bloomed and waned with the seasons. Normally a blazing liquid copper, his eyes were a dull brass, tarnished by too many shots and not enough winks.

The mouth-watering aroma of morning coffee wafted through from under the bathroom door and Guan Shan hoped whoever was up was brewing it strong. He was downing a couple of Advil he’d filched from the small cabinet when he noticed a bruise peeking out from the collar of his shirt. He leaned closer to the mirror, trying to get a better look.

_Motherfucker._ It was an honest-to-fuck hickey.

As his already-shit mood took a nosedive, Guan Shan ground his molars, the flush on his cheeks deepening with anger. Who the fuck had put it there? And when? Guan Shan couldn’t remember making out with anyone last night and, given that he was fully clothed sans shoes, the necking session had probably not gone past first base.

Probably.

Had he been so blitzed out that he couldn’t remember letting someone suck a bruise on his person? _Fuck._

_Fuck!_

Guan Shan’s ire took an ugly turn. He shouldn’t have put himself in that fucking position. He should’ve known better. Seeing He Tian had fucked him up and Guan Shan had responded by getting shitfaced.

Eyes stinging, Guan Shan swiped viciously at his face with another palmful of frosty water. Just as he turned to the toilet and unzipped his fly, the bathroom door swung open.

He Tian paused in his stride to blink at Guan Shan. Then proceeded to make his way to the sink.

“Do you fucking mind?” Guan Shan growled, ignoring the way his insides squirmed at the sight of a sleepy-looking He Tian: softly tousled locks, a rumpled silk shirt and black boxer briefs that were so tight his dick was one cough away from indecent exposure.

Opening the cabinet and rummaging through the contents, He Tian mumbled a curt, “Nope.”

Guan Shan knew he was on the verge of snapping, and he let his anger simmer to a boil as He Tian popped the cap off the Advil container and knocked back a few pills. When he was done guzzling a mouthful of water right from the tap, his gelid grey eyes slid to Guan Shan. He Tian lofted a dark brow and the motion shouldn’t have been as sensual as it was.

“It’s not like you haven’t pissed in front of me before,” He Tian mused. “In fact—”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be shitting out your own teeth for the next year,” Guan Shan snarled.

A smirk ghosted He Tian’s lips and the challenge in his eyes made Guan Shan’s stupid heart stutter like a gin-soaked queen in stilettos. “—I distinctly recall how much it turned you on.”

The illusion that he had any self-control around He Tian shattered as Guan Shan pivoted on his heel and plunged towards the taller man, fists raised and powered up.

But He Tian was ready for him. He’d always been fucking ready for him.

Guan Shan’s knuckles barely grazed the hard-lined jaw it was aiming for as He Tian swiftly dodged to the side. When Guan Shan brought up his left elbow to ram it into He Tian’s obscenely, perfectly straight nose, He Tian ducked like he was made of liquid and not the stacked muscle Guan Shan knew was rolling under that naturally tan skin. He Tian countered with a friendly jab to Guan Shan’s kidney; it wasn’t meant to hurt, and it didn’t. But it did momentarily surprise Guan Shan and He Tian predictably took advantage of his hesitation.

The bathroom cabinet shook as Guan Shan’s back collided with the tiled wall.

He Tian closed in on him, outstretched arms boxing Guan Shan in from either side and leaving He Tian wide open to a counterattack, one that they both knew wouldn’t come.

Guan Shan blamed his sluggish reflexes on the hangover from hell and, this close up, he could see that He Tian hadn’t come away completely unscathed either from a night of liberal drinking and liberal morals.

His eyes were rimmed pink, half-lidded and weary. His weekend stubble was a velvet shadow that would have taken a younger He Tian a week to grow out. His post-party redolence was a mixture of faded cologne, the spicy notes of celebratory fizz, and a familiar musk that reminded Guan Shan of lazy mornings in bed, sun-warmed sheets, and an intimacy that didn’t involve swapping spunk.

Guan Shan’s throat tightened like a vice when he spied the flecks of dark red on He Tian’s crumpled white collar, and the grisly bite mark on the side of his neck that was responsible.

“I’ve barely said two words to you and you’re already trying to break my face,” He Tian drawled in a voice that was as deep as it was dark, and made all the more dangerous by a disarming smile. “What crawled up your ass this fine morning?”

“Fuck. You.” Guan Shan quaked a little with repressed rage. He hated how jaded He Tian was. How he could jaunt back to his home city and just stroll up to Jian Yi and Zheng Xi’s door like he hadn’t disappeared for an entire fucking year. How he could joke and jest and be the life of the party when Guan Shan was in a corner trying to find the jagged pieces of himself at the bottom of a bottle.

He Tian huffed a soft laugh, his gaze taking in Guan Shan’s features like he was seeing him for the first time. And Guan Shan immediately tensed, wondering if he’d properly washed away the drool that had pooled overnight at the side of his mouth and the gunk that had crusted the corners of his eyes. Son of bitch, he should’ve at least _tried_ to wash some of the clumps of product out of his hair.

The teasing lilt to He Tian’s lips vanished as his survey homed in on the spot above Guan Shan’s collarbone, eyes narrowing in a way that made the back of Guan Shan’s neck prickle.

“Who was it?” He Tian asked, his words deceptively calm and sanded clean of all emotion.

Stupidly, recklessly, Guan Shan blurted, “Huh?”

Those steely grey eyes skewered him in place. “Every last fucker who was here last night knew you were off-limits.” Guan Shan opened his mouth to object. “And before you try to rip me a new one, I don’t say that because I’m a possessive bastard. It’s a simple case of you don’t fuck a friend over by sleeping with their ex.” When Guan Shan scoffed, He Tian added, “Sure, if I were my brother, I’d say: You don’t cross a He by fucking with what’s his. Ever. But I’m not.”

That was typical He mentality; the expectation that the world bowed to their authority, that their word was law, and that people were nothing more than pawns and mere possessions. He Tian was nowhere near as bad as his father or brother, but still bad enough that their short years together as a couple quickly went from a whirlwind of passion and promise and buying an apartment together to blistering arguments, nights apart and a bitter end.

“I can bone whoever I want,” Guan Shan grit out. He was _furious_ that He Tian thought he still had any fucking say in what or who Guan Shan did. “And like hell you aren’t a possessive bastard.”

Stepping back, He Tian folded his arms and leaned against the sink. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be losing my shit because you’ve got a ladder of love bites up and down your throat—”

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s one fucking hickey.”

“Fair enough,” He Tian said, the words tight. And Guan Shan baulked because He Tian never gave up that easily. Or at least, the He Tian he’d known a year ago wouldn’t have given up until Guan Shan had surrendered a name.

Guan Shan tore his eyes away, and stared down at his socked feet because the affirmation that he’d been dreading—that He Tian had moved on—was an agonising realisation he’d deluded himself into believing he was ready for. The rusty nail in his skull was a mere tickle compared to the torturous twist of grief wrenching his guts into self-loathing knots.

“You look good,” He Tian murmured. “How’ve you been?”

Guan Shan couldn’t look him in the face. In fact, his gaze could barely climb above He Tian’s hips. Crossed at the ankles, He Tian’s long legs were evocative of chilly morning sprints in running shorts before the city woke, racing each other in the last half mile because the loser had to hustle breakfast. There were differences too, though. The lines of He Tian’s quads, which had only ever been humble in their testament to his strength, were carved deep, chiselled by a new workout or hobby Guan Shan knew nothing about. The z-shaped scar on He Tian’s left kneecap—a souvenir from when they’d been painting their apartment and he’d stumbled off a stepladder—was no longer a pink, puckered thunderbolt, but a pale trick of the light.

“Peachy,” Guan Shan spat.

He Tian cleared his throat. “Jian Yi told me you’d been promoted to station chef. Congrats.”

Guan Shan shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans. Being this close to He Tian jangled his nerves. It made him want to bolt out of the bathroom and— _fuck the damn subway_ —run all the way home. He wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and the man who made him believe that dreams were worth chasing, that he’d never have to fight his battles alone, and that, together, they’d write their own happy ending. Guan Shan wanted to get as far as fucking possible from the only man he’d ever thought he’d have a future with.

Except, standing there in the modest-sized bathroom with He Tian within arm’s reach, Guan Shan felt a little less empty. The thought of walking out and never seeing He Tian again terrified him. And it sickened him too because that was exactly what He Tian had done a year ago. He’d walked the fuck out and he’d never looked back.

Interrupting Guan Shan’s internal wallowing, He Tian asked, “How’s auntie?”

“Peachy,” Guan Shan repeated, jaw aching from how hard it was clenched.

“She sent me pictures of the cat you adopted.” The comment served to cruelly stress the fact that He Tian had kept in touch with everyone but him.

“He’s a street cat,” Guan Shan countered. “We just feed him sometimes.”

“She said he was all claws and hissy fits til you scratched him behind the ears.” He Tian’s playful tone had Guan Shan flitting his gaze up towards him. A little misty-eyed, He Tian tucked half a smile into the corner of his cheek. “Kind of reminds me of someone.”

The longing look He Tian gave him fanned the tempest of wrath and hurt raging inside him. It made it hard to breathe. “Don’t,” Guan Shan choked.

“Just because you broke up with me doesn’t mean I love you any less, Guan Shan.”

The silence between them stretched, strained, primed to shatter into a billion shards that cut too deep.

Then He Tian whispered the words they’d both been thinking, “Last night? That could’ve been us.”

Logically, Guan Shan knew He Tian was just spewing nostalgic shit in the way two exes might do after an extended absence. They’d flirted with the idea of getting married, of donning tuxes and trading vows. Of being each other’s family. But what really pissed Guan Shan off was how He Tian was acting like he had played no part whatsoever in the ruin of their relationship.

“ _You’re_ the one who walked away,” Guan Shan yelled, squaring up to He Tian because _fuck this._ He wasn’t just going to stand there and let He Tian re-write their story.

He geared himself up for He Tian’s retort, likely a pathetic excuse or a barbed rebuttal.

Neither came.

Breathing out a shaky sigh, He Tian’s voice hitched as he said, “I’m sorry, _Mo zai_.”

The endearment was a salve as much as it was like salt in his wounds. And Guan Shan’s fist went flying before he even registered what he was doing.

He Tian, eyes widening, veered out of its path. With his momentum carrying him forward, Guan Shan didn’t pull back in time and his knuckles crashed into the floating cabinet. The mirror cracked, showering his hand and the sink with a rain of razor-edged sparkles. He Tian’s alarmed curse and the clatter of glass drowned Guan Shan’s sharp hiss.

“Mother of fuck, Guan Shan—”

Sidestepping He Tian’s attempt to pull him close, Guan Shan yanked the bathroom door open and fled.

He was _mortified_. Not because he’d thrown his fist through a household accessory—that was nothing new—but because he’d almost forgiven He Tian there and then. He was so fucking _desperate_ that as soon as He Tian apologised, Guan Shan was ready to start afresh. Move on. And move in together again.

_What the bleeding fuck?!_

With his vision blurred, Guan Shan blinked angrily as he swerved into the kitchen and made a beeline for the patio doors. He threw the sliding door open with a rough shove and ignored the way the glass shook; he could hear He Tian on his heels and he needed to get away before he did something he’d regret.

Like give He Tian a second chance.

Dashing towards the garden daybed, Guan Shan risked a look over his shoulder and was surprised that He Tian hadn’t followed him out. The weight of crestfallen disappointment settled deep in his chest.

Whatever.

He dropped into the weatherproof seat and drew his legs up, curling his arms around himself. He’d forgotten about his self-inflicted injury until the palm of his other hand scraped over a glass splinter that was jutting out between his second and third knuckles. Gritting his teeth, Guan Shan gingerly started plucking out the shards of mirror. If the tears in his eyes would quit bitching, he’d be able to work faster.

“You’re getting blood all over the upholstery.”

Guan Shan’s head snapped up.

Awash in the luteofulvous and rosé rays of a curious sunrise, He Tian looked nothing short of fuckable leaning against the frame of the open patio door in wrinkled silk and designer skivvies. He indicated the thermos he was holding. “I come bearing gifts.”

He Tian took Guan Shan’s prolonged silence as permission and strode towards him, that cocksure swagger made all the more impressive when said cock was gorgeously outlined in skimpy underwear. As he neared, Guan Shan spotted the first aid kit He Tian was carrying and he jumped to his feet.

“Sit your ass down,” He Tian growled, the light dancing in his eyes taking the bite out of his words.

Scowling, Guan Shan flopped back down. He extended his uninjured arm, palm up. “Caffeine first.”

With a chuckle, He Tian relinquished the thermos as he climbed onto the daybed; Guan Shan wasted no time unscrewing the cap and taking a greedy gulp. The bitter bouquet of dark, unsweetened coffee perked him right the fuck up, and it helped that He Tian had remembered how Guan Shan liked his morning jet fuel.

“Better?” He Tian enquired, and Guan Shan huffed in response. “Is kitty gonna put his claws away and let me look at the owie on his paw?”

Rolling his eyes, Guan Shan surrendered his hand, resting it on He Tian’s knee.

“Shit, Guan Shan.” He Tian carefully inspected the wounds. “You never did learn how to pull your punches.”

In lieu of a riposte, Guan Shan took another long swig from the thermos, letting the burn from the scalding beverage distract him from He Tian’s gentle poking and prodding. The task shouldn’t have taken more than five minutes, but He Tian managed to drag it out, tweezing out the bits of glass and cleaning the cuts. After making sure Guan Shan could still make a fist and hadn’t lost sensation in his fingers, He Tian wrapped the hand in a gauze dressing.

“You’ll need an x-ray,” He Tian suggested, keeping his touch light as he secured the dressing in place. “There’s a good chance you’ve broken something.”

Before Guan Shan could check himself, he sneered, “And you’d know all about breaking things, wouldn’t you?”

A docile breeze glided through the landscaped garden, rustling canopies of viridescent leaves and beds of violet and evergreen blossoms. A feathered choir of early risers tittered and cooed. And He Tian’s confession cut through the dawn chorus like a serrated shank through tender flesh.

And stung like it too.

“I fucked up,” he whispered. “I took you for granted.”

Guan Shan swallowed against the lump in his throat. “You took _us_ for granted.”

He should have been thinking about his next shift at the restaurant and how the fuck he was going to work with a banged-up hand; he couldn’t afford any time off, not with bills and rent due and a wedding shopping spree on the horizon. But, instead, Guan Shan was thinking about how He Tian hadn’t let go of his hand. How his warm, deep breaths tickled Guan Shan’s cool fingertips. And how soft and hesitant the brush of his lips was against Guan Shan’s bandaged knuckles.

“I know you deserve better.” There was remorse in He Tian’s eyes, in his voice, in the way he clutched at Guan Shan’s hand. “I want to be better.”

“I can’t just... pretend you never left.” Guan Shan’s words were strained and halting, fighting against the sob that wanted to break free. “We can’t just fucking start over like the last year never happened.”

“I know.” Wet-eyed, He Tian’s lower lip trembled and it cut Guan Shan up because he’d never seen He Tian like this before—so _unsure_ of himself. “I’m not saying we start over. Just that we... start somewhere.” He Tian’s grip around Guan Shan’s fingers tightened, and Guan Shan’s skin blanched with the strength of it. “Please.”

The tempest inside Guan Shan cracked around a sunray of hope. “No more promises that are just airs and whispers.”

Vehemently shaking his head, He Tian uttered, “No more.”

“No more ‘because I’m a fucking He’.”

“ _Never_ again.”

“No more ‘because I said so’.” When He Tian faltered, panicked and a little wide-eyed, Guan Shan’s cheeks heated up and he hastily attempted to clarify, “I mean, when—when we aren’t... when it’s not—”

“I solemnly swear not to say ‘because I said so’.” With a cautious smile playing on his lips, He Tian tentatively said, “Outside of sexy times.”

Relief hit Guan Shan like a physical blow. His eyes started bitching again and a sob snapped in his chest. Wordlessly, He Tian tugged and Guan Shan let himself be pulled into He Tian’s lap.

And just like that, something, somewhere righted itself.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” He Tian murmured. His breath was hot and moist against the juncture between Guan Shan’s neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry, Guan Shan. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I wasn’t perfect either,” Guan Shan admitted, curling his arms around He Tian’s neck and breathing him in deep—the afterthought of the sultry cologne he’d dabbed on last night, the resinous memory of the cedar-scented fabric softener he’d used to launder his shirt, and the comforting, masculine notes that were as natural as they were utterly He Tian.

“Don’t you dare, Guan Shan. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

They basked in the quiet intimacy of a shared embrace, the warmth of the rising sun tepid compared to the heat building between them. They fit perfectly against one another, Guan Shan pouring his nooks into crevices and his soft angles into deep chisels. It felt like being whole again.

Slow, wandering hands stroked up and down Guan Shan’s back. And He Tian pressed a kiss against his temple before drawing back, licking his lips.

“What’ve you got in your hair?”

“Satan’s jizz,” Guan Shan mumbled into the silk shirt.

He Tian paused a beat and then fingered through the stiff spikes. “I see,” he hummed, amusement underlying his tone. “That would explain the devil tufts.”

“Ha. Ha.” Guan Shan groused, grateful that He Tian couldn’t see his pout. “It didn’t look so bad last night.”

This time, He Tian kissed his cheek, and Guan Shan suppressed the shudder that went through him when velvet stubble brushed against his neck. “I know. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

“Yeah, right. I was so underdressed a bunch of folk thought I was waiting staff.”

“I think that might’ve had more to do with how you were hogging the hard stuff. You fucking hissed at Xiao Hu when she asked for a line of shots.”

“I don’t remember that,” Guan Shan lied.

“Really?” He Tian challenged, not believing him. Guan Shan mumbled something incoherently and He Tian teased, “What was that? You wanna see if you can bounce a quarter off my pecs?”

“I _said,”_ Guan Shan huffed and hated himself a little for the hypocrisy. “She kept touching your arm all damn night.”

“She touched it _once,_ when she almost tripped and needed to steady herself.”

Rocking back, Guan Shan gave He Tian a look. “Did she trip and try to take a bite out of your neck too?”

Dark brows furrowed, bemused. “What?”

Non-too gently, Guan Shan prodded at the angry-looking teeth marks imprinted on the bulk of He Tian’s trap. “Aw, shit.” He Tian flinched. “I thought it was tender cause I’d slept funny.”

Guan Shan reached into the first aid kit to grab a disinfectant spray and some cotton wool then nestled comfortably back in He Tian’s lap. “If she wants to chomp, she needs to learn about aftercare.”

“Uh...” With a perplexed expression on his devastatingly handsome face, He Tian frowned. “It wasn’t Xiao Hu. I don’t think.”

“You don’t _think?_ You don’t remember who went all vampire on your ass?”

He Tian shrugged, tilting his head to the side so that Guan Shan had better access to the wound. “I guess I got a tad wasted last night.”

“You can hold your liquor better than anyone I know.” Dabbing at the bite with some damp cotton wool, Guan Shan rocked again. “Think harder.”

He Tian let out a choked sound that was half chuckle, half groan. “Ah, _Mo zai_ , you make it hard to think.” He rested his palms on either side of Guan Shan’s waist to still him. “Very hard.”

As soon as Guan Shan realised what He Tian was referring to—and how rolling his hips in his boyfriend’s sparsely clad lap had encouraged the stiff heat he could feel prodding his left ass cheek—he dropped the disinfectant back into the box and canted his hips again. “You never drink more than you can handle.”

He Tian grunted, breathing heavily through his nose as a muscle in his jaw ticked. “Well, last night was more than I could handle. Watching you in skin-tight spray-ons ripped in all the right places. Your pretty throat working with every shot you threw back. Your lips all swollen because you kept biting them to chase the taste.” He Tian sighed. “I’ve never had to keep my hands to myself around you, not even before we started dating—you always tolerated me touching you in some way. But last night was different; you couldn’t even look me in the eye. So maybe I drank more than I should’ve. Honestly, I think the alternative was molesting you in front of all our friends.”

Guan Shan felt his face flush, the heat blistering and uncomfortable. “Stop exaggerating. You wouldn’t have molested me.”

Raising his brows, He Tian divulged, “I had to rub one out in the master bathroom. Twice.”

Ears burning, Guan Shan almost believed there was steam smoking out of them. “Pervert.”

He Tian cupped Guan Shan’s chin, tilting his face up. “You’re the only one I’ve ever perved on. And fuck damn if that doesn’t make me feel like I’m at your mercy.”

The raw honesty in He Tian’s eyes made something inside Guan Shan ache. Beautifully.

He leaned forward until their lips met.

A hushed inhale, cut short.

Guan Shan felt more than heard the soft moan that rumbled through He Tian, like a prayer or a plea or a pledge. Or all three.

Threading his fingers through He Tian’s sleep-ruffled hair, Guan Shan skimmed the seam of those delectable lips, slowly plying them open. He tasted coffee—sweetened with a dash of milk, the way He Tian liked it; the brine of dried-up tears—his own or He Tian’s or both, who the fuck knew; and the memory of his last first kiss—two teenage boys panting, sweating, a starry sky, a b-ball bouncing into the night.

Guan Shan darted his tongue along the inside of He Tian’s upper lip, then nipped lightly at his lower one, rolling it into his mouth, sinking his teeth in until He Tian groaned. Releasing it, Guan Shan pulled back and felt a thrill at the way He Tian had come undone: pupils blown, lips glistening and deep-red, breaths ragged and unsteady.

Locking eyes with He Tian, Guan Shan rocked his hips. Slow. Deliberate. So _very_ deliberate. When He Tian shuddered and his eyes rolled back, a tingle titillated down Guan Shan’s spine, making his balls tighten and his dick thicken. He grasped He Tian’s shoulders for leverage then ground his pelvis harder into his boyfriend’s groin.

_“Fuck,”_ He Tian all but whimpered. Roughly, his hands cupped Guan Shan’s ass, arresting his movements. He kneaded the muscles there, the strength in his steely grip a warning. Even through the denim of his jeans, Guan Shan could feel the throbbing heat coming off He Tian.

“The only place I’m cumming is inside you.” He Tian’s voice was hoarse, his tone no-nonsense and gruff. “So we either keep this PG or you offer one—preferably both—of your holes. The choice is yours.”

Guan Shan bit back the needy whine clawing at the back of his throat. He could feel He Tian’s cock pulsing against the underside of his balls and he drooled at the thought of its heavy, heated weight resting inside his mouth, its girth stretching his lips, its musky tang making him salivate. Suck. Swallow.

He didn’t know how close He Tian was, but making him cum in his itty bitty boxer briefs—which He Tian had shamelessly and unrepentantly paraded about all morning in—would serve him right. Gliding a slightly clammy palm up the back of He Tian’s neck, Guan Shan angled his head and slanted his own mouth so that when their lips met, they locked. Demure at first, Guan Shan’s tongue teased He Tian’s with light, barely-there touches. When He Tian exhaled noisily through his nose, making his frustration known, Guan Shan slid his tongue alongside He Tian’s in an enticing tangle. With measured strokes, Guan Shan built up his ministrations, until he was thrusting his tongue into He Tian’s mouth in the unmistakable emulation of a mouth being fucked. And being fucked good. As soon as He Tian mewled his approval, his guard went down and his grip on Guan Shan’s ass slackened—just as Guan Shan had expected it to.

Decadently, and with brazen determination, he rutted against He Tian’s crotch once more. But a split second later the world spun upside down and Guan Shan’s back hit the daybed with a rude awakening. He hadn’t even caught his breath before He Tian was popping the button on his skinny jeans and yanking them down to mid-thigh.

“Tian—” Guan Shan protested; he knew what was coming and his cock twitched ardently in anticipation.

With a primal grunt, He Tian grabbed Guan Shan’s upper arm and pulled him up so that he was lying on his side, legs trapped in unforgiving denim that was bunched around his knees. An ear-splitting _thwack_ cracked the air, and was soon followed by a familiar prickling pain that spanned both his buttocks.

Guan Shan bit his lip as he tried and failed to stem the moan that escaped. _Fuckin’-A_ , he’d missed this.

He Tian, breathing hard from self-restraint rather than exertion, was steering Guan Shan back onto his back when he suddenly halted, and pulled Guan Shan onto his side again.

“Hot damn,” He Tian murmured but Guan Shan didn’t think he’d smacked hard enough to leave an imprint of his hand. “These are sexy as hell.”

Perplexed, Guan Shan looked over his shoulder. “What...”

Hooking a finger along the cut of Guan Shan’s buttercup-yellow underwear, knuckle grazing the heated skin that had just been spanked, He Tian whistled. Low. And hungry.

Last night, Guan Shan had opted to wear a pair of low-rise mini briefs he’d bought especially; his standard underwear peeked through the suggestive rips in his jeans and made him feel self-conscious, particularly as he had zero intention of pulling at the engagement party. Although the briefs provided adequate frontal support, booty coverage was, at best, half-assed.

Secretly pleased with how enraptured He Tian seemed to be by his butt, Guan Shan didn’t object when He Tian rolled him onto his front and tugged his jeans all the way off. He let his lower half be pulled into He Tian’s lap, so that he was ass up, knees splayed on either side of his boyfriend’s thick thighs.

“I wanna fuck you in these.” He Tian’s rumble was a husky tenor that went straight to Guan Shan’s balls, making them squirm and shift in their sac.

He wondered if He Tian was going to resume his massage of Guan Shan’s globes, or perhaps engage in some light, playful spanking. What he hadn’t anticipated was the pad of He Tian’s thumb pressing up keenly, through the fabric of the briefs, against his asshole. And neither of them had anticipated how Guan Shan would squeak in alarm. Had He Tian’s left hand not been wrapped securely around Guan Shan’s upper thigh, Guan Shan would have likely vaulted to the other side of the daybed.

“You okay? What’s wrong?” He Tian asked, rubbing a soothing palm against Guan Shan’s lower back.

Guan Shan wasn’t sure how to explain that no one—not even himself—had been near his hole since the last time they’d had sex as a couple, which was well over a year ago. Guan Shan didn’t enjoy playing with his own ass, although he readily got off on He Tian fingering him or rimming him.

Eventually, Guan Shan vaguely replied, “It’s... been a while.”

He Tian wrapped his hands on either side of Guan Shan’s waist and pulled him up so that he was sitting in He Tian’s lap, back flush against He Tian’s chest.

“When you say a while...” He Tian whispered into his ear, deftly undoing the buttons on Guan Shan’s shirt. “Do you mean Valentine’s day?”

Guan Shan hummed, noncommittal. Was it pathetic that he hadn’t had sex since they’d broken up? Or was it sweet?

He Tian, evidently, hadn’t clued in on Guan Shan’s discomfort because he continued, “I remember blindfolding you. Feeding you pieces of fruit drizzled in chocolate. Making you guess what they were.” It was the last time they’d gotten through a whole day without arguing or slamming doors. “I remember eating you out for _hours.”_

“It wasn’t even _half_ an hour, you lightweight,” Guan Shan interjected. “And you whined like a bitch for days about how your jaw ached afterwards.”

He Tian chuckled, warm breath curling against Guan Shan’s nape like dewy kisses. He went quiet for a moment before saying, “I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

Right then, Guan Shan decided it was sweet as fuck.

He turned his head over his shoulder, letting He Tian guide his chin so that their mouths melded in a slow kiss. Guan Shan’s lips felt deep-bruised from the kissing session earlier, and every light press and gentle suck, every delicious graze of He Tian’s stubble against his oversensitive lips felt like a spark itching to ignite.

When they came apart for air, He Tian started working his way down Guan Shan’s neck, peppering heated licks and molten nips. Guan Shan’s eyes fluttered closed as he relished the attention, enjoying the way He Tian’s cock, rock hard and thrumming, was snug between his ass cheeks.

“Bastard went for my favourite place,” He Tian grumbled.

“Huh?” Dazed, Guan Shan blinked. He Tian was glowering petulantly at the hickey above Guan Shan’s left collarbone.

He Tian’s throat worked as a shadow crossed his face. “I promise not to go apeshit on his ass, Guan Shan. Just tell me who the fucker is.”

Heaving an irritated sigh, Guan Shan slid off He Tian’s lap so they could face one another. “I don’t know.”

“Alright. What did he look like?”

“I don’t _know_ because I can’t remember.” Guan Shan folded his arms. “I was up to my eyeballs in tequila last night.”

The shadow across He Tian’s face darkened. “So you weren’t even sober enough to consent?”

Fearing that the conversation was going to spiral into an argument, Guan Shan gestured angrily at the bite on He Tian’s person. “Apparently neither were you.”

“That’s different—”

_“How?”_ Guan Shan fumed.

The muscles in He Tian’s jaw bunched and unbunched as they faced off in silence. Finally, He Tian’s shoulders slumped with a deep sigh. “You’re right, _Mo zai._ It isn’t different.”

For the second time that morning, He Tian surprised Guan Shan by relenting rather than steamrolling into a fight. Guan Shan had been so sure that He Tian was going to fire back with ‘because I said so’. But he hadn’t. Already He Tian was proving he wasn’t the same man he was a year ago.

“Okay.” Guan Shan’s sense of relief made him feel a little giddy. And a lot horny. “Well, I’m glad we agree.” Without any further preamble, he climbed back into He Tian’s lap. And shoved his hand down He Tian’s boxer briefs. “You can have any hole you want.”

Out of nowhere, a spinning flipflop whacked He Tian on the side of his face. _“Fuck!”_

“Happy for you both!” Jian Yi yelled, jubilantly. “But no naked yoga in my garden!”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Mò zǎi_ : 莫仔, Little Mo.
> 
> If you got to the end of this silly drabble, cheers.
> 
> Zack x


End file.
